


Time Out

by Baneberry



Category: Transformers: Robots in Disguise (2015)
Genre: Bondage, F/F, Light BDSM, Sticky Sexual Interfacing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-22
Updated: 2017-06-22
Packaged: 2018-11-17 04:38:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11268099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Baneberry/pseuds/Baneberry
Summary: “After all… You really need to relax, skeptibot.”





	Time Out

**Author's Note:**

> For [this prompt](https://maccadams-filthy-fills.tumblr.com/post/162012933395/id-like-to-see-rid-2015-strongarmwindblade-with).

“I’m not as familiar with Earth idioms and phrases as you are, I’m sure,” Windblade chuckled, “but I gotta say…” She stopped pacing, turning to face Strongarm with a mischievous leer. Strongarm was in restraints, bound by chains and malleable metal around her torso, pinning her arms at her sides. Her legs were held open, hanging from more rusty old chains. A steel ball-gag wedged in her mouth, clasped tightly around her head. “You’re definitely a sight for sore eyes.”

Strongarm glowered, but didn’t fight or struggle. Remained perfectly still in her chains.

“I didn’t know what that meant for a while,” Windblade continued, stepping forward and rapping her thin fingers on one of Strongarm’s bent knees. “But I think I get it now.” Her hooded optics glimmered in the dull light of the dilapidated barn. “You know, if you’re uncomfortable, we don’t have to continue,” she stated. “You understand that, right? And you know what to do if you want me to stop, right?”

Strongarm nodded.

Windblade smirked. “Good.” Her wings stretched, fluttering. “Because I’d hate to call it quits now.” She gracefully went to one knee between Strongarm’s spread legs, bracing both hands on her inner thighs. “After all… You really need to relax, skeptibot.”

Strongarm would have rolled her optics, but then Windblade was cupping her crotch, pressing down against the paneling. “Open,” she ordered, her voice still sweet and charming.

Strongarm’s panels opened with a loud _click_.

Windblade giggled. “Oh my goodness,” she said. She traced two fingers down Strongarm’s moist folds. “Already wet? And just for me?” She slid the tip of one digit beneath Strongarm’s hood, playfully fondling her anterior node. Strongarm bit down on the ball-gag, choking down a low whimper. She shivered, and the chains clinked gently. “I’m flattered. But a little concerned–you’ve been needing some R&R for a while now, it seems.”

Windblade looked up at Strongarm, locking gazes. Hers dusky and heady, Strongarm’s squinted and flushed blue-violet. “Or were you just waiting for the right bot to come along?” the Seeker sneered. She pumped her finger inside Strongarm’s channel in shallow thrusts. Strongarm squeezed her optics shut, her thighs twitching as if she were trying to close her legs. She clenched down on Windblade’s finger; Windblade rolled her node against the pad of her digit, and her partner instantly settled.

“You got a cute channel,” Windblade said. She watched as she slipped another finger inside Strongarm, rhythm going deeper but still at a tedious, torturous pace. Strongarm was groaning and crying into her gag, coolant-spittle dribbling from the corners of her lips and down her chin. “If you don’t mind me saying. I know that bothers some bots.” The flier chuckled, shrugging; she hooked both fingers on the edge of Strongarm’s channel, tugging down. “But not you, right? You’re a hard gal to impress sometimes.”

Windblade bent forward, pushing her tongue inside Strongarm’s channel and licking her node in one long, heavy stroke. Strongarm gasped, jolting; dust sputtered in the air around them. Windblade continued probing the bottom of her channel with two fingers, lavishing her hood, folds, and node with tongue and lips. She took one fold in her mouth, gently nibbled, and Strongarm almost bucked into her face.

Windblade sat back in time, fortunately. She looked at her fingers, wet with strings of lubricant. “I suppose that’s enough teasing for today’s session,” she said. She slid both digits into her mouth, slowly, sucking off the lubricant with sensual elegance. Strongarm gulped loudly, her frame rattling; more lube trickled out from her entrance.

Windblade stood, licking the lubricant from a corner of her leer. “Truth be told, I’m getting a little impatient myself,” she said. She slid her panels aside, taking her growing pressurized unit in one hand. She gave it a few heavy strokes, browplates twitching. She stared at Strongarm, chewing her bottom lip, and Strongarm was beginning to think one of them had an oral fixation. Maybe both.

“All strung up like a winter solstice ornament… I could get off just by looking at you,” Windblade crooned. She walked back between Strongarm’s legs, her groin level with the bot’s face. Tip of her unit inches from touching her ball-gag. “But I’ll be nice,” she purred, stroking her erection against Strongarm’s cheek.

Strongarm took a deep breath around the gag, preparing herself, as Windblade knelt down again. Grabbed her hips and held tight. She ground her unit between Strongarm’s folds, chuckling. “Okay,” she said, as Strongarm scowled and wriggled, “that’s it, I swear.” She lined herself up with Strongarm’s channel, inventing deeply. “Ready?”

Strongarm swallowed. She nodded.

Windblade grinned lopsidedly. She pushed her unit inside, slowly, and Strongarm stiffened and clenched down. Windblade stopped, half-in, and started thrusting. Leisurely and sluggish like with her tongue and fingers before. But it still sent Strongarm reeling, her head falling back as she moaned obscenely into the gag.

“T-Tight fit, skeptibot,” Windblade snickered, snapping her hips, “but w-we’ll loosen you up in n-no time.”

As Strongarm adjusted, Windblade pushed in more of her unit. Soon she was almost to the base, speed picking up fast. Each thrust came harder now, almost forceful–in a good way. Strongarm watched Windblade’s cord work in and out of her channel, cheeks ablaze and optics violet. She rolled her hips, wanting to take more, needing to take more.

Windblade obliged. She drove her entire unit inside Strongarm and held there. Strongarm keened, body jerking. Windblade smirked, and continued with the same rhythm as before. There it was–just what she needed. Strongarm’s optic lids drooped, the fuchsia dimming as they rolled back and upward. The sensations were… indescribable. Nothing like she’d ever felt before.

Windblade was supposedly blessed by Primus’s hand himself. Maybe the divine upgrade included sex god tier abilities. The flier was enjoying herself as well, grinning wide and panting, groaning Strongarm’s name and a litany of praises and compliments on how warm she felt, how good she felt, how perfect she felt, how wonderful she felt, how beautiful she was, how much she wanted to make Strongarm squirm and cry and beg for more and more and more.

“Frag, y-you’re damn delicious,” Windblade stammered, wings trembling. She pumped harder, their groins leaving behind paint transfers. “Nnn, scrap, Strongarm!”

Strongarm could barely form a sentence, just making pleased noises into her gag.

“T-Take the power of P-Primus deep within you!” Windblade shouted. Strongarm was almost torn from her daze by that–almost. “Too corny? Or t-too blasphemous?” She thought a moment, then reached to loosen the gag’s restraints. Removed and tossed it aside. “Tell me h-how good it feels, skeptibot.”

“Scrap, I– I–” Strongarm whined, drunk grin splitting her face. “Scrap, feels s-so fraggin’–oh, Primus!” Her wail trailed off into a giggle. Her tongue, just slightly lolling from her mouth, was just too cute. Windblade forcibly grabbed her cheeks, squeezed them; yanked Strongarm’s head down and mashed her mouth against the puckered lips.

Strongarm shut her optics, returning the kiss as equally sloppy and messy. Their tongues tasting each others mouths, doing all that silly fighting and wrestling nonsense like in Earth romance novels Strongarm might have skimmed a few times. Windblade bit her tongue, yanked it back then let it go; she dove in, snatched Strongarm’s bottom lip and nibbled until the metal started turning a shade of light blue. Strongarm jerked her head away, bringing it back to seal the flier into another deep kiss.

Suddenly, Strongarm gasped against Windblade’s mouth, pulling away. Windblade beamed, optics wide and bright. “That’s it,” she rasped, coolant shining on her wet red lips, “l-let me hear you scream.”

Windblade pumped faster, and after a few more thrusts, Strongarm threw her head back with a loud cry. She overloading, transfluid pouring out and around Windblade’s unit settled deep inside her. Windblade didn’t wait for her to come down, her charge still buzzing as she resumed plunging and shoving. Strongarm squealed; spent, however, she sagged back into her restraints. Watching the Seeker as she panted and cycled humid air.

Windblade overloaded a few minutes later, pulling halfway out as she bowed back with a keen. The way her thin frame curved as she climaxed, her wings hiked and twitching, Strongarm suddenly wanted to kiss and lick every inch of her blessed body. She gasped at the warm transfluid filling her channel, gushing from her slick mesh walls and into the puddle on the ground.

Ten seconds later, Windblade’s backstrut relaxed and she flopped, boneless, against her bound partner. “S-Scrap…” she rasped, armor and plating clattering.

Strongarm licked her sore lips. “Kinda h-hate to say it, but…” She dropped the side of her head against Windblade’s decorated helm, sighing contentedly. “I guess I r-really needed that.”


End file.
